“They suppose their existence here to be unknown to the whites.”
“I wonder they trust you as far as this.”
“They do; I always return. They know I am unable to escape, and would be found and brought back if I tried; so they grant me my only solace, that of wandering in the woods.”
“This time they have trusted you once too often. Will you go with me, and let me take you back to your friends?” asked the captain, impulsively.
“I would go with you most willingly; but would the venture not be too rash? Would it not endanger your own safety and that of your men, who might escape harm alone, but, impeded with a woman, you might lose your lives while saving hers. No, I had better stay where I am. You can be of more service without me,” answered Millicent, with quiet forethought.
“Not for a moment would I consider myself in the matter, Miss Gordon,” replied the captain, with prompt assurance; “but perhaps it is not best to attempt to rescue you until I have secured more men.” He remained silent a few minutes, apparently in deep thought, and said, at last, very decidedly, “No; in case we met even a small band of Indians we should be unable to resist, and they would surely recapture you or kill us all at once. If you will have a little patience, and still trust me, I promise to return and liberate you as soon as I can get men.”
“Yes, I trust you wholly; and, as for patience, the hope of rescue will make it infinite until you come,” said Millicent, smiling.
“Thank you for your trust; it shall not be misplaced. Be prepared at any time after a week for an attack upon the camp, and this time the war-cry will come from friends instead of enemies. May I do homage to the fair hand that has carried water to quench the thirst of an Indian squaw?” Before the blushing Millicent could deny the favor he had pressed her fingers to his lips.
“I must return now, or they will look for me. See, the sun sets already.”
“I will go part way with you, as I wish to observe the situation of your present home.”